“There’s definitely something going on here,” said a friend, mid-meal, over dinner at Soubois. We were seated in this sort of crazy, multi-level, multi-roomed, multi-coloured basement space designed to look like a chalet, but a chalet owned by fashionistas who like to party. There are a couple of bars, many banquettes, lounge-y areas, and a vestibule that looks like a doctor’s office in Colorado. A long-legged waitress floats by. Then another. I feel like I’m in a spa, or a ski resort, or … whatever I’m feeling, it’s definitely not that I’m in the heart of downtown Montreal.

Opened in June, Soubois is a restaurant that got a lot of people talking — but mostly about the decor. This establishment is brought to us by the mastermind behind the hugely successful Les Enfants Terribles restaurant empire, Francine Brûlé, as well as a handful of other partners, including her son, Alexandre Brosseau (of the branché bar/resto Flyjin). The chefs, Guillaume Daly and S’Arto Chartier-Otis, are alumni from Les Enfants Terribles. Interestingly enough, Daly worked under Chartier-Otis at Les Enfants, but Chartier-Otis then left to become chef at the swish Balnea Spa. Though his cuisine was much acclaimed at Balnea, he wanted to return to the city. At Soubois, his role is that of consulting chef.

Soubois is described by management as an “underground magical forest.”

Before descending the long staircase into this, “underground magical forest” (management’s words, not mine), I had reservations — and not just for a table of three. As much as I enjoy a fun setting, I feared this restaurant’s supper club concept, not the food, was the priority. The last time I dined at the Les Enfants Terribles in Outremont, it was a huge disappointment. As this group’s experience is more bar/bistro than fine dining, expectations were low.

But guess what? My dinner was amazing. Plate presentations were gorgeous, ingredients were chosen with care, and the delicious factor was sky high. I’m racking my brain to find something I didn’t like. There were a couple quibbles, but on the whole … wow!

Soubois’s wine list was created by Quebec’s only Master Sommelier, Élyse Lambert. It is well-priced and as it’s hand-picked by a master, I’d feel confident ordering any bottle (if only I could say the same for all wine lists). Still, before opting for a bottle of Domaine du Clos Naudin Vouvray, I sampled a cocktail from the drinks menu. Alas, the cherry and gin concoction recommended by our waitress didn’t taste much of cherry or gin. A good cocktail needs a bit of backbone, and this one was about as biting as a juice box. But then the food arrived and I forgot all about that wimpy drink.

The emphasis is on Quebec ingredients and products like charcuterie from Les Cochons Tout Ronds in the Eastern Townships, foie gras from la La Canardière in the Lanaudière, M. Legault strawberries, Berri vegetables, and sea buckthorn berries, the berry of choice for chefs weary of blueberries. Prices are high, but considering the swish surroundings, the quality of ingredients and the complexity of dishes, this supper club is also one of the rare fine-dining establishments to put down roots of late. Dishes are served on handmade ceramic plates and bowls, and when the appetizers were set on the table, we oohed and aahed before digging in.

Starter featured venison tataki with beets, horseradish and spruce.

To begin, there was a plate of salmon confit paired with sea-buckthorn chips, curls of pickled cipollini onions, smoked crème fraîche, cucumber, radish and lemon cream. Everything about this dish was fresh and light, with only the sea buckthorn chips playing it a bit too loud. Another starter featured venison tataki with beets, horseradish and spruce. The skinny rounds of venison just slip down your throat, with the horseradish and spruce adding unexpected flavours, and then the beets come in to sweeten the deal. I liked this dish enough to wish we weren’t sharing plates, which is a good way to go to get the best sense of this kitchen’s talents.

I especially like what they did with a salad. Made with arugula, grilled peaches, spoonfuls of ricotta, toasted sweet almonds and lobster mushrooms, the mix was dressed with maple vinaigrette and topped with rose petals. I loved it all, the look, the taste, the flavour combinations, the textures. It was like summer captured in a bowl. Now that’s what I call a salad.

Mains were all fabulous, starting with a trout filet paired with honey-roasted carrots, mustard sauce and sesame-crusted skin. The fish was perfectly cooked and actually tasted like something (there’s a blah-ness about fish these days that make me think that, blindfolded, we’d have a tough time identifying one specimen from another).

Wood-smoked and then roasted, the game hen flavoured with juniper and served with grilled peaches and green beans was the best dish in a meal of great dishes.

The wild mushroom spaghetti was another treat. Tossed with kale, garlic flower and cherry tomatoes, the pasta was finished with a pouch of burratina (think burrata but smaller), and two homemade bread sticks. To be obnoxious, I’d say I would have preferred the dish made with a tube pasta (like a mezzo rigatoni?) to hold onto the larger ingredients, but that’s nitpicking because the dish was delicious. That said, my highest praise goes to the game hen. Wood-smoked and then roasted, flavoured with juniper and served with grilled peaches and green beans (perfect late-summer accompaniments), this little chicken was the star of the show. The meat was so succulent and tasty that I’m certain it must have been brined. The lightly smoked flavour mixed with the juniper, pan juices spiked with peach, the peaches, the beans, all came together, making this the best dish in a meal of great dishes.

The re-imagined s’more is made with chocolate ganache, homemade marshmallows and graham cracker crumble.

Desserts were a notch less fabulous, but we still managed to polish them off. A strawberry shortcake served with Chantilly cream flavoured with wild roses and elderflower shows promise, but the leaden biscuit needs work. A white chocolate and wild flower bavarian with sea buckthorn curd and white chocolate was everyone’s favourite. And as much as I enjoyed the re-imagined s’mores made with chocolate ganache, homemade marshmallows and graham cracker crumble, the chocolate was flavoured with “thé des bois” (America wintergreen), leaving a sort of chewing gum after taste.

Small criticisms aside, I not only loved my food at Soubois, but admire the risks this kitchen is taking with all sorts of wild edibles. Service was fine and our waitress could not have been more lovely, but as the room was pretty empty, I’m not sure how they manage on busy nights. And there are busy nights at Soubois because in supper club mode, customers are welcome until 3 a.m. But to me, calling this restaurant a supper club is almost a disservice. As wow-worthy as the setting may be, and as crazy as things must get after hours, the real action at Soubois is happening in the kitchen.

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